Two weeks after Jack and Rose left Fabrizo came home to find Darrin in the apartment, waiting for him. "Ah, Mr. DiRossi," Darrin said jovially. "Right on time."
"What are you doing here?" Fabrizo asked suspiciously, from the doorway.
"I just came to ask you a few questions. Why don't you come in and sit down?" Nothing could disguise the harshness in Darrin's eyes. Fabrizo kept his distance but did as he suggested. He knew why this strange man was there, "So, you live alone?" Darrin asked. "For how long?"
"Since I came to this country." Fabrizo kept his face blank; he was determined to give nothing away.
"I see," Darrin said. "But didn't you have friends living with you for a while, a couple?"
"No."
"You didn't? But the landlord says three people moved into this apartment in April."
"He's mistaken," Fabrizo said. "Do you want anything else?"
"You know, Mr. DiRossi, it would be wise to cooperate with me," Darrin said. "The man I work for is very powerful. I'm in a position to help you. Money, a better job, anything you want. If you cooperate, that is. If you don't, you might find your life here more difficult than you anticipated. Or you might find yourself back in that little Sicilian village."
"I'm sorry. I can't help you," Fabrizo said coldly.
The next morning he sent a letter to Jack, warning him about what happened. He used a false return address and gave one of the children down the hall a dime to mail it for him, so no-one could intercept it. His worry for his friends increased. Cal would keep looking. Surely they realized that?
….
But Cal was the last thing either of them were thinking about. Fabrizo's letter was lost. It was three months before it arrived, and by then, they both had nearly forgotten Rose had ever been married to someone else. Jack gave her another ring one night, by the lake. The full moon made everything flow. He slipped it onto her finger. "Will you marry me?" he asked.
"Haven't I already?" Rose said.
"I never officially asked you, though."
"In that case, of course I will. I'd like nothing more," she said happily.
Her old life was so far behind her now. At times the urge to write her mother appeared. Just a short letter, with no return address, to let her know she was alive and happy. But she knew better than to actually do it. There could be no contact. Cal would find them, and her mother would never share in her happiness. There were moments when Rose didn't know which was worse, having been married to a man like Cal or having a mother who didn't believe her, who wanted her to stay with him. Orphanhood bonded the two of them together even more.
"Promise me we'll always believe our children," Rose said.
"Of course we will," Jack replied.
"If one of them is in trouble, we'll help. We won't tell them they're making it up," she added.
"We won't ever do that. We'd never do that," he said. He knew what she was thinking of. "We won't make them run away."
As spring blossomed into summer they worked to get the farm in order. There was no division of labor, no men's jobs and women's jobs. Jack showed her how to do everything. She was astonished by his infinite supply of patience. No matter how badly she did something or how long it took her to get it, he never got angry. He never raised his voice or belittled her. Was this, she wondered, how it felt to be respected? Not deferred to or coddled but actually taken seriously as an equal?
They took walks into the woods, where he taught her how to recognize and mark a trail. "You'll never get lost if you do this," Jack promised. Rose didn't know when she would ever be in the woods alone, but she listened attentively. He gave her a pocket knife of her own. It sprang open at the touch of a button. She was never without it. They seldom went into town, so most days she wore an outfit of his. His clothes nearly fit her; the places where she thought they didn't were the places where he thought they were perfect.
Rose was stunned to see him pick up an axe one morning and announce they were going to chop wood. "But it's only July," she said.
"Exactly. Never too early to start getting in the wood for this winter."
Of course, she thought. How else would the keep warm? She remembered what he'd said about how cold the winters were here. Could they ever chop enough wood to survive? Rose watched him swing the axe with ease, splitting the logs. After a few swings he stripped off his shirt. His blonde hair, even more golden in the sun, fell into his eyes. She watched muscles ripple on his back as he moved. She pushed away the spark of desire the sight ignited within her.
"C'mere," he said. "You try."
"Me?"
"Yeah."
"Jack, I couldn't," she said.
He took her hand. "Sure you can." He put the axe handle in her hands. "It's easy."
"But Jack, I'm—You have to be strong to do this. I can't. I'll never manage—"
"Just try, honey," he said. "It's good to know how to use an axe."
"Alright," she said reluctantly.
"Put your hands up like this," he instructed. "Now, raise it—no, not that high—perfect." He stepped out of the way. "Just bring it down on the log, right in the middle as hard as you can."
Rose silently counted to three and then she swung. The axe hit the log exactly in the middle. It split the log into two pieces. She shrieked with joy and surprise. "I did it! Jack, I did it!" She dropped the axe and threw her arms around him. She kissed him. "I did it," she said again, still not quite believing.
"I knew you could. Give it another try," he encouraged.
Rose's back, arms, and shoulders ached by the end of the day, but she didn't care. They both ached. Together, they dragged the largest tub into the kitchen and heated water for baths. Jack poured salts into the water to soothe their sore muscles. They went to bed exhausted every night and fell asleep almost immediately. There was barely time to settle onto the pillow or for Jack's arm to encircle her. Their sleep was deep and dreamless.
….
The world was still a deep blue when Rose began kissing him. She kissed his neck lightly. As she moved over her face her kisses became more insistent. Without opening his eyes, he caught her in his arms. She giggled. "Well, hello," he said, pulling her onto him.
She pushed the hair away from his face. "Good morning." He held her closer. She kissed him; she felt him pressing against her thigh. "You're awfully easy to wake up," she teased.
He took hold of her hips and moved her again. Now, he pressed directly against her. She drew in her breath sharply. "With you to wake up to, who wouldn't be?" he said into her throat. They slept nude, to stay cool and because they liked it. It had been Rose's idea. As his lips moved over her, she was glad she had suggested it.
….
Darrin came back several times. Twice, Fabrizo managed to avoid him. The third time he didn't. "You haven't been home lately," Darrin said smoothly.
"That's not your concern," Fabrizo replied.
"Maybe it is. Actually, I'm not concerned with you. I'm sure you know that. It's your friends I'm interested in."
"I don't know what you're talking about," Fabrizo said.
"Mr. DiRossi, don't insult my intelligence," Darrin said. "We both know you do. You know who I'm looking for and where they are."
"No, I don't."
"My patience is running out," Darrin said. "We'll find them with or without your cooperation."
"I doubt that." It was the most Fabrizo had ever given away.
He sent another letter to Jack. This time he sent it special delivery so it would get there quickly. His other warning, he now realized, hadn't been received.
….
The second letter arrived on the same day as the first. Jack read them quickly; his heart beat faster with each word. He should have known something like this would happen. Why had he thought it was safe to leave Fabrizo alone there? Of course they would question him. Jack was grateful for his friend's loyalty, though he didn't feel deserving of it.
"What's that?" Rose asked.
"A letter from Fabrizo. Two, actually."
Nervousness crept into her voice. "Two? What do they say?"
The tiny post office was nearly empty, but Jack led her outside. They stepped into the small alley next to it. "Someone's been coming by the apartment," he said. "Asking questions about us. One of the letters is from three months ago."
"They've been asking all that time?" Rose knew it was absurd even as she said it. Of course they had been. Cal was still looking for her. The only real question was how he was explaining her absence. "But the first letter is so old."
"I know."
"I knew they wouldn't give up," she said. "It was a mistake to involve you in this, either of you. I should never had done it." Her voice rose. "If he doesn't tell them, they'll—"
Jack took hold of her arms. "Rose, you gotta stay calm," he said. "He's not gonna tell them anything. He wouldn't do that to us."
"But if he doesn't they'll—"
"Ssh. Honey, don't," he said soothingly. "I know you're scared, but everything's gonna be fine. They have no idea where we are, and Fabrizo's Sicilian. They aren't going to scare him." He hugged her. "I'm a little scared too," he added. "But we can't let it control us."
"You are?"
"Yeah. I saw what Cal will do. If it was just him, well, I can handle that. It's all the guys he's got working for him that make me nervous."
"I told you," she said.
"But they won't find us here. How can they?"
"They'll keep coming after him, unless we find some way to help," she said.
"You're right. Rose, I've been thinking about this for a few weeks. You can say no, but what if—"
"We ask him to come and stay here, with us?" she finished.
"Exactly."
"I think it's a good idea," she replied. "It may be what's best. The three of us should be all together. You and he were going to keep traveling together, before I got here, weren't you?"
"We'd talked about it."
"Do you think he'd come?"
"We can ask," Jack said.
It was something Jack had considered even before the arrival of the letters. When they left there wasn't time to invite him along, but part of Jack had wanted to write and ask him once they were settled. It would be good, he decided, to have a close friend nearby. Maybe the three of them, working together, could make a better life than any of them could on their own. So, Jack sent a telegram, in Italian, to Fabrizo, with the idea. They went into town the next day, where the answer was waiting. It was "Yes."
…..
The proposed visit to the Dawsons was put off twice, but finally, the McCullough siblings went through with it. Their father, Frank, still hadn't returned from his trip to Boston, where he was visiting his own brothers. His children wondered if he would ever return, but they didn't concern themselves about it too much. He was happy and cared for where he was. The farm was running smoothly. What more could they ask for?
Lucy hadn't let herself sneak over to see Jack and Rose again. Instead, he had all but confined herself to the house, brooding and snapping at her brothers. Mostly, they ignored her. Responding would only make things worse. "She wants attention," Tom said.
"I do not!" Lucy argued.
"Then stop sulking and let this go," he replied. "He married someone else. You should too."
"Yeah," Adam chimed in. "Don't waste your time with this. I wouldn't."
"You've never been in love," she said. "You don't know."
"Neither have you," Adam said.
"Stop it. Both of you," Tom ordered. "I don't want to hear another word about it."
On the day of the visit Lucy almost refused to go, but she knew Tom would make her. She took great pains over her hair and wore the nicest dress she had. She filed her nails until they were perfect ovals. She dabbed perfume behind her ears and pinched her cheeks to give them more color. If she couldn't have Jack she could still show him what he'd lost by leaving her.
It was a Saturday. Jack and Rose were dressed for going into town. They were freshly bathed. Their clothes were much nicer than those they worked in. Rose wore a simply dress, but its elegance was obvious. Her curls were gathered back and tied with a matching ribbon.
They were surprised to see the McCulloughs approach, but they accept them graciously. "What brings you here?" Jack asked.
"We thought we should visit," Tom answered. As the oldest he had the right to speak for the others. "We wanted to wait until you got settled in first."
They looked around, inspecting the place. The house and other buildings still needed a new coat of paint, but otherwise, everything was in fine shape. Rose felt as if she were under inspection. Lucy seemed to be both trying not to look at her and staring intently at her. Rose wondered where her interest came from. They had all known Jack in the past, but there was more to it than that.
"You've really gotten the place in shape," Bill said approvingly.
"Thanks," Jack replied. "I couldn'tve done it by myself, though. Rose helped. She did more than me."
"No, I didn't," Rose said modestly. "I helped. That's all. Jack had to teach me how to do everything."
Jack tried to hide his awkwardness in front of Lucy. There was no tension, no hostility coming from her brothers, but still, he wondered how much she'd told them. Did they know—No, he told himself. She would never have told them that. They wouldn't be there if she had. He felt Lucy's stare. Her eyes were cold and angry. Why hadn't she moved on? He wished he'd told Rose about her, but it was too late now. He just hoped she didn't say anything before he could.
"Why don't we go inside?" Rose suggested brightly. "It's too hot to just stand out here."
It was cooler in the dim kitchen, with the windows open. "Why'd you come back?" Adam asked.
"I thought it was time," Jack answered. "We needed a place to settle."
"And I wanted to see where Jack grew up," Rose added. "He's told me so much about this place."
"That's funny," Lucy said. "No-one would ever have expected you. Where are you from?" Tom shot her a look, but she ignored it.
Rose hesitated before saying, "Philadelphia." Lying was too complicated. She would only lose track of what she'd said, and Philadelphia was a very large city. She couldn't be the only red haired girl her age to have grown up there. But why was she even worrying about it? These people had no idea who Cal was or who she had been. There was no reason to lie; at most, the needed only to omit a few details.
"You did travel a lot," Tom said to Jack.
Jack laughed. "Yeah, I guess I did. It was something I needed to do," he added seriously, hoping Lucy understood.
"Our father's traveling," Bill said. "He's in Boston now, visiting some family."
"I heard about how he kept the bank from taking this place," Jack said. "I want to thank him for that. I never thought I'd want to come back, when I left, but after I got here, I was glad it was still mine. I was grateful to have a place to come home to."
"So was I," Rose said warmly. "Being here means a great deal to both of us."
"I'm sure it's not like where you lived before," Bill said. "You must be bored here after living in such a big city."
"Oh, no," Rose replied. "I always have something to do. There isn't time to be bored. I much prefer it here. It's so beautiful. I haven't spent much time in the country until now." Lucy held in her comment, but Rose sensed it. She felt her dislike and wondered at it again.
The visit was a short one. They spent another half hour making pleasant conversation, and then they were off. As they went, Jack breathed a sigh of relief.
"She loves you," Rose said quietly.
"What?" The comment startled him.
"It was obvious she felt something. The two of you simply had to have a history together. She wouldn't have looked at me the way she did if you didn't." Her voice was calm, her eyes searching. "What happened between you two?" she asked.
"I was going to tell you," he said. "I hadn't thought about her in so long. I didn't think I'd ever see her again. When I left I never planned to come back; you know that."
"You left her."
"I asked her to come with me. She said no."
"Did you love her?" Rose asked.
"In a way, I guess. We grew up together. I'd known her all my life. We were friends. More than that. Everyone assumed we'd get married when we were old enough. Our families were close. It made sense."
"But you left."
"I left," he said. "Rose, I didn't know what love was back then. I cared about Lucy. I did. I won't lie to you about that. We were—we were close." She understood his meaning. "But it was never—she wasn't—" He tried to find the right words. "What I feel for you is completely different. It's stronger. Better. I don't know how to describe it. With Lucy, I always felt like I was running to catch up with her. We weren't in the same place. She didn't care about art. She didn't dance. She never wanted to travel. She didn't need me." That had always been the worst part, that feeling that no matter what happened, she would never turn to him for help, for comfort, not even for company during the story. Lucy was completely self-sufficient. He didn't want her to cling to him, but he was left feeling lonely.
"And I do all of that?" Rose said.
"I don't mean you couldn't get along without me," he said, trying to explain. "You'd made it on your own; you'd be fine. But you let me help. You let me get close to you, Rose. If I'd stayed, I wouldn'tve been happy. I woulda married her. If my parents had lived, I'd probably have never left, and she wouldn't have been any happier than me."
"But you asked her to go," she reminded him.
"I didn't know all of this yet. I knew she meant a lot to me, and I couldn't just leave her here."
"What if she had said yes?" she asked.
"I don't know," he answered. "I guess I would've married her. It would've been the right thing to do. But then, I would've met you—"
"And we both would have been married," she finished.
"Yeah. Married and unhappy."
"That's a state you're supposed to suffer through," she said. "You aren't supposed to leave. I wasn't supposed to leave."
"People who don't know what being happy's like say that. It's not true. You have no reason to make yourself miserable," he said.
"Would you have left her?"
"For you?" he asked. "Would I leave a woman I don't love for one I do love?"
"She's still hurt over losing you."
"I know. I didn't think she would be. We were so young. I thought she'd go on with her life."
"Why wouldn't she be?" Rose said. "I'm sure I'd never get over you, not if you were alive somewhere, and I could still hope you'd come back."
"I'm sorry I didn't tell you. We've been so busy, and before there were so many other things to think about. It's like we've got our own world out here. I forget about everything."
"So did I. But maybe we can't."
"Do you hate me?" he asked.
"No. I could never hate you, Jack. I'm not even really angry. I'm more surprised than anything, though I don't know why. I knew there were others before me. We've talked about it," she said. "It's just strange, seeing her." Rose could imagine how Jack had felt back then, and she understood. But she understood how Lucy felt too. "I'm not the one who should be apologizing to," she said, not unkindly. "You should talk to her."
